Guilty Parties
by Kittie
Summary: Why was Blair not acting himself in season 4 of the show? What if Blair... wasn't Blair?
1. Part One: Rage

**Part One: Rage**

Later, he would marvel that it had taken him even as long as this to explode. The emotions churning within him were so strong and unfamiliar that they simply overwhelmed him. He had a newfound respect for their previous owner--not that he hadn't respected him before, and sympathized, but now that he had experienced true emotion for the first time, he was awed at the strength and humility that had hidden within that compact body.

In the meantime, though, there was only the rage.

If Captain Simon Banks and Detective Jim Ellison had been paying any kind of attention to civilian observer Blair Sandburg, they would have seen his light blue eyes darken to a stormy grey, his full lips pulling away from clenched teeth as he began to lose his tenuous hold on his sanity. Upon seeing this, they might have stopped what they were doing and asked him what was wrong, and upon getting their answer, perhaps they might have tried to soothe his ruffled feathers. But they weren't paying attention, that was the problem. They were cutting him off, discounting his opinions, talking over him. So when he let out a primal cry of rage and all the windows in Simon's office exploded outward, it came as a complete surprise.

It only took a matter of seconds. Simon and Jim leapt from their seats as screams of shock and fear echoed throughout the bullpen. Seasoned officers drew their guns and aimed them at the source of the disturbance, only to drop them as the weapons burned white-hot and exploded in their hands. People dropped down under their desks as computer screens imploded, pens and pencils snapped in half, and coffee mugs blew apart. And in the middle of it all was Blair, his teeth clenched and grinding, arms flung out from his body, shoulder-length curls blowing about in a wind with no source, eyes _glowing_ blood-red.

When it was finally over, as papers floated calmly back to the floor and the only sounds in the room were harsh breathing and muffled sobs, Blair smiled.

"What the hell was that?" Simon's voice, shaky with residual fear, finally broke the hush as he surveyed the damage.

Blair whirled around and _growled_ at him, and Simon shrunk back, barely registering it as Jim stepped in front of him, holding a hand out to his agitated friend.

"Hey, Chief," Jim said quietly, shakily. "What's going on, here?"

Blair slapped the hand away. "What's going on? _What's going on?"_ His voice rose steadily in volume as he spoke, and it took on a deep, guttural tone that no one recognized as his own.

The door to Major Crimes slammed shut and locked itself, shutting out the people rushing from nearby offices to find out what had happened and offer any necessary aid. They pressed their faces against the windows and knocked frantically, calling out to the people trapped inside, but no sound broke through. Not even the Sentinel could hear them.

"Who do you think I am?" Blair spoke quietly now, but his voice still carried throughout the room. He stepped into the middle of the bullpen, turned away from Simon and Jim and looked at the rest of the people in the room. "_What_ do you think I am? A flake? A child? A... an _annoyance_ you can use and abuse and _ignore_ as you see fit?"

"No--" Jim began as he inched closer, but it was Blair's turn to cut _him_ off.

"A _joke,_ maybe? Is that what you see?"

People were slowly coming out from under their desks, shaky and unsure. Joel Taggart got to his feet first, and he, too, held out a hand. "Blair, did...did you do this?"

Blair faced him and his gaze softened just slightly. "No. Not Blair." Then he turned back to the Sentinel and glowered at him, his formerly blue eyes still glowing blood red. "You didn't even notice, did you? He lived with you for three _years_ and you didn't notice."

"Notice what?" Jim was nervous now, and very afraid. "You're not making any sense, Sandburg."

"I am _not_ Blair Sandburg!"

Jim flinched away, the inhuman roar causing a spike in his hearing.

"Blair _died_ in that fountain over three months ago, or didn't you notice a change? Am I really that good of an actor, _Detective,_ or are you just that uncaring?"

"What are you talking about?" Joel Taggart had gone utterly grey, staring at the man he could only believe had gone completely insane.

The man looked kindly back at him, his expression in direct contrast to the venomous glares he continued to direct at Simon and Jim. "I suppose I should explain," he admitted, his mannerisms and language nothing like those of the Blair Sandburg they had all gotten to know and love over their three-year association. "I am a spirit, or, I suppose, a demon. I had been watching Blair Sandburg for years, ever since I became aware of the great power he possessed."

The demon began to pace slowly back and forth, seemingly unaffected by the whispers and heated denials that followed its announcement. "He was an empath, did you know that? With certain telepathic abilities. And only a few months ago, his power increased, when he was passed The Way of the Shaman by a Chopec warrior-healer. Of course, he was oblivious to it, as were all of you. That only made him more attractive to me. If I were a less savory and much more stupid individual, I might have killed him and attempted to absorb those powers, but I knew that he had to be alive for them to be utilized. I also had grown to admire him after my many years of observation, so I had no intention of seeing him harmed."

The demon, seeing that most of its audience was even more confused than they had been when it had begun its explanation, turned a nasty grin on Jim. "Would you like to tell them your secret, or should I? It's essential to my story, I'm afraid, and they won't understand until they've heard it."

Ellison's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched even further. The demon's grin widened in response.

"Very well, I guess it's up to me. Detective Ellison is a Sentinel. In other words, he has five heightened senses--sight, hearing, taste, smell, and touch. The Chopec warrior who passed Blair the title of Shaman was a mentor of Detective Ellison's, dating back to his time in Peru."

Again, whispers filled the room as the huddled officers tried to absorb what they were being told.

"Didn't you wonder about his claims of extraordinary feats such as seeing Tommy Juno, clear as day, from over 200 yards away--and in the dead of night?" The spirit's cruel sneer looked completely out of place on Blair's normally gentle visage. "And hadn't you ever wondered why Sandburg spent so much time with him, and how your star detective managed to solve such a large percentage of his cases? It's easy, really. Blair Sandburg was his Shaman and Guide. He helped Detective Ellison to control his senses, and use them to the best of his ability."

It then directed its narrative to Jim, its voice taking on a cutting tone. "But you never appreciated that, did you, oh, Great Sentinel? You took him for granted. You undermined both him and his work in anthropology time and time again, despite the fact that it was his studies that brought the two of you together, and gave him the knowledge he needed to help you." It stepped up to him, invading his personal space. "And he died for that."

"What are you saying?" Taggart asked, desperately wanting to understand. "If he's dead, then how are you... What did you..."

"I saw his body dying, so I took it over." The demon shrugged, pushing a stray curl behind its ear. "Once I did so, I tried to live his life as he would have lived it. I wanted to learn, and I did. I have never lived as a human being before. The depth of emotions astounded me. I was distracted from my study of human nature for a short time, by the strength of them."

It had stepped away from Jim, leaving the detective pale and shaking with anger. Now it paced leisurely back and forth, arms folded behind its back. "Being a demon, I didn't have much in the way of emotion. Love, hate, anger, fear...it was all the same to me. But not to Blair. Even now, in my anger, I can feel the love he had for all of you. He was dedicated to you." It turned back to Jim. "Especially you. He loved you more than life itself, despite everything. You should be glad it was me you spoke to in the hospital, instead of him. I wouldn't have wanted him to hear what you had to say about the vision that had meant so much to him, even as he died." Its eyes flashed red with anger once more. "Do you remember what you said?" Its lips curled into a snarl as it repeated Jim's words, and everyone in the room gasped as the words came forth from those lips--in Jim's own voice. "I don't think I'm ready to take that trip with you, Chief."

The demon shot forward and shoved Jim to the floor, standing over him and screaming its dissatisfaction. "He would have taken any damned trip you asked him to, and you couldn't even give him that, could you!"

"Stop..." His anger gone, Jim had gone utterly white, his eyes wide and wet with sudden understanding and grief, his voice shaky and weak. "Stop, I didn't mean--"

"You never _meant_ anything," it scoffed, unforgiving. "You said all kinds of things in fear, and in anger, and you would always come back and say you didn't mean it. There were always excuses and never any changes."

"I didn't... I wasn't--" Jim was at a loss for words. He gulped, his thoughts and emotions plainly visible on his face. He didn't even attempt to get up off the floor. "I thought he knew," he finally finished, his voice whisper-soft.

"What do you want?" Simon interrupted, needing to at least attempt to take charge of the situation.

"Want?" The demon shrugged again. "I don't _want_ anything, I'm just pissed off. I started off wanting power, but Blair changed me. You've all seen my strength, I could easily destroy this entire city if I wanted. Probably the entire state, or more. But he wouldn't want me to, and so I won't. Before, I would have had a plan. I would never have acted without thinking, but emotions make you do that, don't they? They cloud your judgment."

"Can you bring Blair back?" Detective Brian Rafe's voice was shaky, but clear. He faced the demon defiantly, trying to hide his trembling hands behind his back. "Can you give us a chance to...apologize?"

The demon regarded him intently for a long time, finally giving a secret smile when Rafe's gaze did not waver. "How interesting that those of you who have no need for apologies are the ones most willing to give them." It looked around the room again, its eyes lingering on Taggart, Brown, Rafe and Connor. "You forget that I have inherited his empathic abilities. I know what each of you is feeling right now. I can feel your guilt, your sympathy and your confusion as well as if it were my own."

Its anger seemed to have faded somewhat as it turned back to Jim, who still slumped motionless on the floor. "I know how badly you feel," it allowed. "You did care for him, even if you were loathe to admit it."

Simon folded his arms across his chest. "If he was...an empath...he should have known that we appreciated him. How could he have thought..."

"I told you, he didn't know just how powerful he was. He didn't understand his abilities." The glow in the demon's eyes slowly faded, and the red of its irises turned back to blue. "I'll make you a deal."

It looked down at Jim and spoke only to him. "I will leave here. I will release the imprisonment spell I have placed on the doors and the windows and I will let you be. Blair is, to quote a movie he once saw, only _mostly_ dead. Since I have kept his body alive, his soul is still tethered to it and to this world. If you can convince him to return to his life, I will willingly give this body back to its original owner. But if you fail..."

"We'll never see either of you again," Jim finished numbly.

"Exactly." The demon gave a slight wave of its hand and the people outside the room froze as still as marble as the door unlocked itself and swung open. The not-Blair strode out calmly among them, never looking back. Behind it, the windows to Simon's office reconstructed themselves. Computers and coffee mugs were repaired, wind-blown papers re-stacked, ruined guns regained their functionality, and the burned hands of those who had tried to use them...healed. The statue-like crowd vanished back to their own desks with no memory of the incident, the clock hands turned back, and everything was normal again.

But Blair was gone.


	2. Interlude: Death

**Interlude: Death**

Blair had been confused at first, when he'd realized what had happened. He was dead, but he wasn't. He had expected a tunnel with a bright light at the end of it, or at least a continuation of the jungle vision he'd had, where he was the wolf, and Jim's panther had tried to save him. But instead he was here, wandering around Cascade without a body.

He'd tried looking in a mirror, but found he didn't have a reflection. He'd tried slipping into a meditative state where he could see himself, but that didn't work, either, since one had to have a body in order to have an out-of-body experience. In the end, he'd decided it really didn't matter what he looked like, since no one could see him, anyway.

He stayed in Cascade. He watched the spirit who had taken over his body, and marveled at how well it was able to imitate him. No wonder none of his friends noticed a difference.

The spirit spoke to him all the time, though rarely out loud, since it knew it was living with a Sentinel. Rather, he could hear the thoughts it directed toward him and, judging from the way it conversed with him, it could hear his responses. At first, he had worried that it would cause harm to his friends, but it assured him that it was only there to observe. As time went on, it expressed its frustration with the way Blair was treated by Jim, Simon and many of the members of the Cascade PD. It seemed to take Simon's gruff nature and Jim's inability to say exactly what he meant much too personally. Blair had always known that they cared for and appreciated him, but the spirit refused to accept that knowledge. It wanted to hear them say the words, and when that didn't happen, it just got angrier and angrier.

After Sweet Roy was killed, it had lost its temper, yelling at both men in the captain's office. Simon had taken it aside and reaffirmed its worth, which seemed to mollify it for the time being, but its satisfaction was short-lived. The anger never dissipated. Blair could only watch, dismayed, as it became more and more unstable.

Despite the slow buildup and the obvious warning signs, the final blowup shocked him. He had never imagined the power it had at its fingertips. And to think that some of that power was his own! He had noticed long before that he didn't have any emotions while in this state, but he did _remember_ what it had been like. Based on his recollections, he imagined he should feel quite sorry for his friends, especially Jim, who looked awfully shell-shocked by the revelations. He hovered protectively over the Sentinel, pleading with the spirit to have mercy. It must have heard and understood, because its rage diminished somewhat and it offered a deal.

Blair decided that it was a fair bargain, all-in-all. He hadn't really considered going back to his old life. He'd made the decision to move on, way back when he'd first died, and it was only his healthy body that was keeping him here. Maybe, if it turned out that Jim really needed him, he'd go back. Otherwise, he could let things lie. The spirit wasn't really causing any harm... It was pretty nice, actually, for a demon.

It smiled when it heard that thought, and told him with a small amount of wonder that Blair himself had initiated that change. Before its association with him, it might have simply gone on a killing spree, had it found itself in this situation. It assured him that it would refrain from any acts of cruelty while it inhabited this world and his body, and with that promise fortifying him, Blair stayed in Cascade while the spirit took his body and settled in San Francisco.

The "Blair Appreciation Campaign," as Henri Brown called it, began immediately after everyone got over their shock. It turned out that no one remembered what had happened except for the people who had been trapped inside the room. As a matter of fact, according to the rest of the world, no time had passed at all. For them, it was as if the incident had never occurred, but Blair knew that for Jim and the other members of Major Crimes, it would remain forever etched in their memory.

He watched, amazed, as each of his friends expressed their feelings in different ways.

Simon didn't verbalize anything, but worked through action instead. First, so that there would be no trouble over Blair's absence, he told the university officials and the Chief of Police that Blair had been called away for a family emergency. He then requested a meeting with the mayor, the commissioner, and the chief to have him hired permanently as a part-time consultant to the department. He cited Blair's experience and intelligence, as well as the Major Crimes Department's fabulous arrest record since his arrival, as evidence that his presence was beneficial to everyone. He continued to push until the motion was approved

Megan Connor started a journal and addressed each entry to Blair. Among her everyday observations and frustrations, she told him how much she missed him, and how she had always admired him for his intelligence, his kindness and his tenacity. Each tear-stain on the pages of the book was for him.

Henri Brown and Brian Rafe just talked--mostly to each other. On stakeouts and in the office, they told "funny Blair stories" and spoke with awe about his intellect and other talents. Brown started a contest and an office pool to find the person with the craziest anecdote. He won, but everyone agreed that it had been a fair race.

Joel Taggart prayed for him regularly. He also spoke to him sometimes, wondering when he was "coming home," and asking him to forgive them all for the way they had treated him. Blair told Joel there was nothing to forgive, even though he knew the older man couldn't hear him.

Finally, there was Jim. Blair stayed with him the most; he just couldn't seem to keep away. Jim's greatest tribute was in what he _didn't_ do. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, he didn't speak unless spoken to. Predictably, he lost his heightened senses, and his case record started to slide. His friends saw this and attempted to help, but there was really only one person who _could_.

Blair watched all of this, somewhat awed by their actions. After just under two months had gone by, he made his decision.


	3. Part Two: Homecoming

**Part Two: Homecoming**

It was barely two p.m., but Jim Ellison was on his way to the loft. Simon had ordered him to go home for the day, insisting that he was in no shape to stay as he was practically falling asleep at his desk, anyway. Jim didn't bother to argue with him. He didn't have much to say about anything, lately.

Simon didn't know it, but he had ordered the impossible. Jim couldn't go home because he didn't have a home. The loft was empty and unfamiliar without Blair, even though the demon had taken nothing with it but a few clothes and essentials when it left. At first Jim had been glad to have things in the loft, such as the tribal masks, large and dusty leather tomes, and "Earth Music" CDs that reminded him of Blair. But as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months, what had started as a comfort soon became a subtle form of torture. He found himself burning Blair's incense, using Blair's shampoo, even drinking Blair's strange teas...anything to keep the memories from fading. So far, it had worked, but only two months had passed and, though it felt like forever, he knew he wasn't likely to forget anytime soon. It would take years for him to forget.

But, God, how could he survive _years_ this way? Feeling this empty? He had gone through so many emotions since that day in the bullpen. First had come disbelief, then denial, sadness and anger. And, of course, through it all, there had been guilt. Had Blair really felt that way during his life? Did he really think he wasn't loved and appreciated? Jim knew that he had made mistakes. He had never been very good at expressing his feelings, and had a failed marriage and an estranged family to prove it. Blair Sandburg had been the first to see through his stone-faced facade--or so he'd thought. Had Blair been fooled just like everyone else?

Ellison barely stayed on his feet as he parked his truck and trudged wearily into the loft. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the rack by the door, then headed into the kitchen for a beer. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep despite his mind-numbing fatigue, so instead he ordered a pizza and prepared to sit in front of the TV, watching something mindless for a few hours.

He rounded the sofa, reached for the remote--and froze. "Blair?" Jim felt tears come to his eyes as he let himself drink in the sight of the man he feared he would never see again.

Blair was curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Quiet snores were escaping from between his slightly parted lips, and his eyes moved back and forth in dreams behind closed lids. He was wearing jeans and a ratty Cascade PD sweatshirt, his hair loose and framing his face with soft curls.

Jim had already reached out a hand to touch Blair before he realized he'd moved, and he yanked his hand back just in time to avoid waking him. His earlier fatigue suddenly forgotten, he sank into the chair next to the couch and just watched his friend sleep.

When Blair woke up, he would say everything he should have said a long time ago. This time, he wouldn't mess up.

Blair woke up slowly, still not used to the feeling of being alive again. When he had first reclaimed his body, it had taken him hours before he got used to the weight of his own head on his neck and shoulders. Even the act of breathing had driven him nuts, because he was aware of each and every breath he took. He had waited for several weeks before leaving San Francisco, where the demon had taken residence. It stayed by his side, offering its support and advice as he prepared for his move back to Cascade.

Cascade...?

With that thought, he came awake all at once, sat up with a gasp...and came face-to-face with Detective James Ellison.

"Jim!" The name came out as a breathless gasp, and he shot to his feet, backing away from his old friend, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

He hadn't meant to do it this way. The plan had been to get into the loft while Jim was at work, using the key the demon had taken with it when it left. He was going to fix a nice dinner, so that when Jim came home, they could talk over a good meal and set things right. But he'd been so tired, and somehow he'd fallen asleep on the couch, and Jim had come home and found him there...

"Hi, Chie-- Blair."

Jim's soft voice stopped his whirling thoughts in their tracks. He hadn't seen the older man since he'd left Cascade in his spirit form several weeks before, and he was shocked at the change that had occurred in just that short time. Jim had lost even more weight, leaving hollows in his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. His skin was so white as to appear almost blue, and his eyes were watery and bloodshot.

"You can call me Chief," Blair managed, trying to stop staring.

Jim gave a tiny smile at that. "Okay."

"What time is it?" he asked, unable to think of anything more appropriate to the situation.

Jim glanced at his watch. "Four-thirty." At Blair's confused look, he added, "I got... I came home early."

Blair nodded. "Hungry? I could make dinner..."

There was a flicker of something indefinable in Jim's eyes as he shook his head. Blair tentatively stretched out the empathic pathways the demon had taught him to use, and was shocked by the sheer intensity of Jim's guilt and self-loathing. Looking at his empathic ability the same way he looked at Jim's senses, he only had the dial set at '2,' and was already nearly overwhelmed. He quickly shut down the pathways and stepped toward Jim, reaching out an placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Jim, I don't mind. I'm hungry even if you're not, and cooking relaxes me, helps me think. Why don't you go take a shower or something, or watch some TV, and then we can sit down and talk over dinner."

Jim managed a tiny smile. "You saying I stink, Sandburg?"

Finally, Jim was showing some life. "I wasn't aware I was being subtle about that, Jim." He gave his friend a tiny shove toward the bathroom. "Go."

Jim just stood there for a moment, staring at him. It took all of Blair's willpower, but he held Jim's gaze, refusing to look away, even for a second. Jim needed this, that much was obvious. He needed to convince himself that Blair was really back. It felt good to be needed, even as his heart ached for the pain he had caused his friend.

Finally, Jim gave a tiny nod and stepped away, heading up the stairs for his robe and a change of clothes, and then back down to the bathroom for a shower. By the time the shower was turned on, Blair had already started the water boiling for a pasta dinner, and was defrosting some shrimp in the microwave.

He hummed to himself as he melted the butter and sautﾐed the onions and garlic for the sauce, trying to decide what he would say and how he would say it. The first thing he wanted to do was apologize. It was his fault the demon had taken over his body in the first place, since he hadn't exactly fought for it. He'd just been so tired, and so hurt and confused by everything that had happened. His death had almost seemed like cosmic justice, or a punishment, for not being honest with Jim about having found another Sentinel.

Not that Jim hadn't had some fault in that as well. Blair had tried to tell him and been cut off, but that shouldn't have stopped him. He should have persisted and forced Jim to listen. He should have realized, as both Jim's Guide _and_ his friend, that something was causing Jim to act the way he did. He'd gone over it again and again during his time as a spirit. If only he had asked Jim what was wrong. If only he had made Jim listen about Alex. If only he had tried to guide Jim through his confusion and irritation, so that he could get to the heart of the matter. If only he hadn't let Jim throw him out.

He still felt a twinge of pain when he remembered that, and the things Jim had said to him in the bullpen. Their last words had been words of anger, and yet he'd just given up anyway. If for no other reason, he should have fought his way back so that he could tell his friend that everything was still all right between them. But he hadn't done any of those things. He had fallen down on his job as a Guide, and both of them had paid for it.

He didn't know how he could say all this to Jim, but he would try. He would apologize for all of it, and then he would let Jim speak. He would let Jim make the apology he desperately needed to voice, and he would forgive him. Then they would both make promises that they would make every effort to keep. Their relationship would never be the same, but that was probably a good thing.

He heard the shower go off, so he set the kitchen table and dished up two plates of food, then sat down to wait for Jim. It was going to be a long night.

Captain Simon Banks sighed to himself as he entered his office. Here it was, not even nine a.m., and he already wanted to leave. It had been a hard week, filled with robberies, drug overdoses and murders, and it was only Wednesday.

He picked up his phone as he took his seat, grimacing as he realized he had a message waiting in his voice mail. Only a few people knew his private number, so it was likely that the mayor or commissioner had called at some ungodly hour. That was never a good thing, since both of them usually wanted information "yesterday" about whatever it was they'd called about. However, the voice he heard was one he had feared he would never hear again.

_Simon, hi, it's Blair Sandburg. I'm sorry to call you on your private line, but I didn't want to leave a message with anyone else. Anyway, Jim won't be coming in today, he had a pretty rough night and he's wiped out. I'll call and let you know when he can come back to work. Oh, and, Simon, please don't tell anyone I'm here yet. I'm going to tell them all myself, in my own way. Thanks...um...for a lot of things. I'll talk to you later._

And for the rest of the day, the members of Major Crimes had to wonder why their captain was walking around with a grin splitting his face from ear to ear.

Blair Sandburg took a deep breath as he prepared to enter the police station for the first time since his death. Aside from a few phone messages left on Simon Banks' private line, he hadn't spoken to anyone in Major Crimes since his return, and he worried about the appropriateness of just showing up unannounced like this.

He could feel his former partner standing behind him, making no move to rush him or influence him in any way, and he had mixed feelings about the older man's actions. On the one hand, he was glad for the time to center himself before what was sure to be a dramatic reunion, but on the other hand, he feared that Jim really didn't understand at all, and was just going out of his way not to do anything that would upset Blair or make him angry. A quiet Jim Ellison was normal, but a subdued one was somewhat frightening.

He had left a final message on Simon's voicemail early that morning, letting him know that both he and Jim would be coming in. He had called in every morning for the past three days, each time reiterating that he didn't know when Jim would be ready to return to work. Jim had basically collapsed after their long talk the night of his return, and had slept for over 36 hours straight. Blair himself had been unable to sleep, at least immediately afterwards; his mind was too busy trying to work through the implications of that talk.

He had started off first, explaining to Jim all of his concerns and frustrations, and the reasons for his leaving. He had talked for over an hour while his food got cold, and Jim had simply sat there and listened, his eyes cast down and his shoulders slumped. Blair had started to feel somewhat guilty, listing all of Jim's shortcomings and faults in such a short span of time, but convinced himself that it really was for the best. If they were ever going to work things out, they had to be honest with one another.

He made sure to tell Jim that he did _not_ feel as strongly as the demon had, and he pointed out the ways in which he himself could have changed the outcome of the Alex Barnes debacle. By the time he finished, his mouth was dry and his stomach empty, but a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Jim's shoulders, however, seemed even more weighted down than before.

Blair put his plate into the microwave and started to eat, waiting for Jim to speak. When nothing happened for several minutes, he put down his fork and told Jim in no uncertain tones that his tendency not to speak was part of what had destroyed them in the first place.

"If you want to fix this," he said as kindly as he could, "if you want things right between us, you will tell me exactly what you're thinking right now, and you won't stop talking until you've bared your soul to me. We have a lot of healing to do, Jim, and at this point, the only way I'm going _anywhere_ is if you refuse to meet me halfway."

Jim's eyes had remained firmly downcast, but slowly he had begun to speak. His voice was low and hoarse, the words halting, but slowly they gained speed. He began with his ill-fated trip to Peru, and he told Blair everything he could remember from that trying time when he had repressed all of his memories rather than deal with the guilt and anger he had felt over losing his team. He spoke of his return to Cascade, his time in Vice, the transfer to Major Crimes, his partnership with Jack Pendergrast and the older cop's sudden disappearance, eventually getting to the re-emergence of his senses and the very first day the two of them had met.

Years and years of hidden emotions--anger, guilt, confusion, grief and the odd moments of joy and contentment, poured out of him in a flow. He didn't even notice as Blair handed him a tall glass of water, which he absentmindedly sipped as his voice began to give out. He kept talking until he reached the day he had first seen the spotted jaguar signifying Alex Barnes' arrival in Cascade, at which point he faltered, his fingers spasming around the weeping glass. But he forced himself to go on. He told Blair of his dream about killing the wolf, and of the unsettling feelings of being crowded, threatened. He talked about his vision at the fountain, and how he had thought that he had somehow brought Blair back to life using his Sentinel abilities. He only stopped when he reached that horrible day in the bullpen, when he had found out that the man he had been living with for the past few months was not Blair at all, but an impostor with a familiar face.

They both sat in silence, then, for a long while. Blair stood and put his empty plate in the sink, then took Jim's untouched food and wrapped it up before placing it in the refrigerator. It was after 3:00 a.m. and they were both exhausted, but he knew there was something they both had to say before they could sleep.

"Jim," he said, kneeling down in front of the guilt-ridden Sentinel and taking both hands in his own. "I need you to look at me." In all the hours of their talk, Jim had not looked him in the eye even once. "Look at me," he repeated, when Jim's eyes merely flickered upward, still only reaching his nose.

Jim took a deep breath and forced his eyes to meet Blair's. Blair smiled at him, his eyes clear of all anger and accusation. "Jim, you are the best friend I have ever had, and I am not willing to lose you. You hurt me, but I know that you didn't mean to, and I know how badly you feel about everything that happened. I hurt you, too, and I apologize for that. Will you forgive me? Can we work this out?"

"Forgive _you?"_ Jim could barely speak after hours of nonstop confession, and his voice was almost inaudible. "You don't _need_ my forgiveness, you didn't--"

"Please, Jim. Forgive me, and forgive yourself."

"Do you--?"

Blair nodded, understanding the question Jim simply couldn't bring himself to voice. "I forgive you, Jim. I forgave you a long time ago. I forgive myself for my own shortcomings, and I resolve to you now that I will not make the same mistakes again. Now, please, tell me if we can do this."

Jim's eyes fell to the floor once again, but then he took another deep breath and brought then back up, squaring his shoulders and facing Blair with blue eyes blazing with determination and resolve. "I forgive you, Blair, and I forgive myself. We _will_ work this out."

And then all the energy left his body and he collapsed into Blair's hug, using the last of his strength to fall to his knees and pull Blair close, his face buried in mahogany curls. Blair was forced to help him up to his room and into bed, but he hadn't minded the task at all. He had called Simon's private line at the office immediately, arranging for Jim to have the next day off, and when Jim stayed asleep well into the evening, he called again. He had called in just one more day before Jim began to get restless, and then he made arrangements to go in with him.

Now, here they were, standing in front of the Cascade Police Precinct, and Blair was afraid to go inside. He took another deep breath and turned to smile at Jim. "Ready?"

Ellison managed a sickly smile in return. "Let's go."

They walked in together.

The bustling bullpen of the Cascade PD's Major Crimes Department went utterly silent as Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg walked through the doors. Conversations petered out, phone calls were ended with terse explanations, and mouths all over the room dropped open in shock.

Blair stopped short in the doorway, causing Jim to bump into him from behind. The Sentinel muttered a quiet apology which was shrugged off without a second thought. It didn't take long before Blair felt compelled to break the silence. "What," he flippantly asked the room, widening his eyes to comic proportions, "somebody die?"

It was just enough to galvanize Megan Connor into action, and she launched herself at Blair with open arms and a squeal of joy. "Sandy!"

Soon, they were surrounded by well-wishers. Hands were everywhere--it seemed as though everybody just needed to _touch_ Blair, to reassure themselves he was really there. Henri Brown gave him an enthusiastic high-five and ribbed him about his slightly longer hair. Rafe shook his hand and quietly welcomed him back to "where he belonged." Joel Taggart, his eyes suspiciously wet, gave him a rib-cracking hug and promised to take him out for lunch sometime soon. Much to everyone's surprise, Simon Banks hugged him, too, and good-naturedly read him the riot act for making him keep the secret of his return for three long days. Jim just stood back through it all, stiff and pale, his face carefully blank.

After several minutes of barely controlled chaos, Banks called for order. It took him several tries to get everyone's attention, but when the room was finally quiet, he smiled kindly at Blair, and began to speak.

"Sandburg, I think it's obvious that I speak for everyone here when I say that I am very glad you've come home."

The room filled with murmurs of assent, and Sandburg's cheeks flushed a deep red color as he mumbled a shy, "Thank you."

"All of us were very upset by what happened here a few months ago, and we've been waiting all this time to apologize to your face, and to let you know how much you mean to us." He stepped closer to Blair and spoke quietly, but not so quietly that he couldn't be heard by most of the people gathered round. "I wronged you, Sandburg. I didn't treat you with the respect you deserved. You have brought a lot to this department, and I consider you an asset to Major Crimes. I know I didn't say it often, and I guess my behavior didn't show it to you, either. I can't promise that I'll be singing your praises all the time now--"

"No, I wouldn't expect you to--" Blair interrupted, but Banks quieted him with a small shake of his head.

"--But I wanted to show you how important you are to all of us. To that end..." He put an arm around Blair's shoulders and guided him to a spot that had been cleared near Jim's desk. "You see that empty space, Sandburg?" The young man nodded slowly. "That is where, if you'll accept the offer, your new desk is going to be. And picture, if you will, the shiny new nameplate that will go on that desk, which will read 'Blair Sandburg, Consultant.'"

Blair felt his heart skip a beat. He had known about Simon's plans to get him a permanent position, having watched throughout most of the process, but had not expected his own desk in addition. His throat closed up just slightly.

"And that's not all," Taggart piped in, obviously barely containing himself. "Tell him the rest, Captain."

"I'm getting there, I'm getting there," Banks grumbled with mock-annoyance. He cleared his throat and waited for the chuckles to fade. "Now, Blair, are you picturing your new desk?" Another shell-shocked nod. "Then imagine, now, the beautiful new Cascade PD paycheck that will appear on said desk, bright and early every other Friday morning!"

Blair gulped. "Paycheck?"

"Yes, Sandburg, paycheck. As in cash, moolah, grass, clams, dead presidents. Money. A paycheck."

"This is unbelievable!" Now Blair's eyes were getting wet. "I didn't... I... This is too much!"

"Not for you, it isn't," Brown disagreed forcefully. "You've always been one of us, this is just a formality, really. We all wanted this for you."

"We're so glad you're back, Sandy." Megan stepped forward and hugged him again, and Blair melted into her arms, struggling to keep the tears from falling.

Banks waited until Blair had calmed down before grinning and motioning toward Jim's desk. "Now, you have a lot of paperwork to do if you want that paycheck, Sandburg, so I'd get started if I were you. And the rest of you... Don't you have any work to do!"

The infamous Banks bellow broke up the party and sent all of the officers of Major Crimes scurrying back to their desks. Jim Ellison watched Blair as he headed down to Records, on Banks' insistence, to get the paperwork for his new position. He sat down at his desk and turned on his computer, forcing himself not to give in to his urge to follow his Guide. He wouldn't make the same mistakes this time. Blair didn't need a keeper, and even if he did, Jim Ellison didn't really deserve the title.

He started on his own paperwork, completely unaware of the worried stares of his co-workers.

Blair Sandburg was back, so that meant that Jim would soon be back to his post-Blair, relatively happy self...

Wouldn't he?


	4. Part Three: It's Not Over 'Til

**Part Three: It's Not Over 'Til...**

Simon Banks was not a religious man. Oh, he believed in God--he'd been raised Baptist, after all--but he didn't go to church every Sunday, and didn't have the strong conviction of faith he saw in some of his men. However, he found himself praying every night as of late, hoping that Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg would talk through their differences and get back to normal.

Everyone had thought that the healing had begun when Blair had returned to Cascade, but they had been wrong. If anything, the relationship between the two former friends simply got worse every day. It was all very subtle, but anyone who knew the two men well could see it clearly. It was mostly in the way they spoke to one another, in the sharp tones of Blair's voice and the subdued tones of Jim's. It was in the way they never touched one another anymore the way they used to, and in the way Blair would flinch away if Jim tried. It was in Jim's dull eyes and pale skin, and in the continuing absence of his Sentinel senses.

But apparently, Jim and Blair were the only ones who couldn't see the relationship deteriorating, and so it just got worse and worse until Blair was snapping every time he spoke to Jim, and Jim wasn't looking his Guide in the eyes, and Blair could tell Jim to do whatever he wanted and Jim would do it, no questions asked.

And Blair was starting to get very annoyed.

Finally, after a particularly nasty flare-up one Tuesday afternoon, Simon decided he'd had enough.

Blair had come in the station at 12:30, bearing lunch. "I got you lunch, Jim," he said, plopping a paper bag down on Jim's desk. "It's a pita sandwich: wheat bread, hummus, sprouts, red peppers, fresh mozzarella, basil and tomato. One of their best vegetarian sandwiches. I got two."

"Okay," Jim agreed, reaching into the bag for the sandwich, but Blair scowled at him and pulled it away.

"'Okay?' That's it, you just say 'okay' and I'm supposed to accept that?"

"What?"

"You _hate_ vegetarian sandwiches, Jim. Weren't you even going to say anything?"

Ellison's confusion showed plainly on his face. "You bought me lunch, Sandburg, I'm not going to complain--"

"Why not?" Blair's voice was getting louder now, but not so loud that anyone who hadn't already seen this coming would turn and look. "If I brought you a dog shit sandwich, would you eat that, too?"

Jim tried, and failed, to smile. "Oh, come on, Chief, the sprouts aren't _that_ bad!"

Blair just let out a strangled exhalation and threw his hands in the air in frustration before stalking out of the room.

Simon felt his heart break at the lost and defeated expression on Jim Ellison's face, and knew it was time to step in. He stood and started toward the detective, smiling slightly as he saw Joel Taggart leave his desk and set out determinedly after Blair. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who had decided to intercede.

"Jim," he called, keeping his voice soft and non-threatening. "My office, please."

Every eye in Major Crimes followed Jim as he stood and trudged into Simon's office, looking much older than his 37 years.

Simon closed the door behind them as they stepped inside, and closed the blinds as Jim collapsed into the chair in front of the desk, burying his head in his hands. Simon then took his own seat and decided to wait until Jim had pulled himself together before he said his piece. He had just opened his mouth to speak when Jim let out a ragged sigh.

"I'm so _tired,_ Simon."

Banks closed his mouth, unsure of what to say in response. He waited for Jim to continue, but the man just stared down at the floor, his hands clasped in his lap. "Jim," he said gently, "what's going on? I thought you and the kid were working things out?"

"We _were,_ Simon," Jim breathed wearily, lifting his head and regarding his captain with red-rimmed eyes. "He said he forgave me, but...I really don't think he has."

"You think that's the problem?" Banks pitched his voice neutrally, hoping to let Jim work through the thought on his own.

"What else could it be? We had a long talk the night he came back... He listed all of my faults, everything I ever did wrong." He laughed bitterly. "It wasn't a short list, Simon." He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet, lost. "He said he forgave me."

Simon leaned forward, letting his eyes drill into Jim's. "He didn't lie to you. I know Sandburg, and if he said he forgave you, he meant it. But remember, Jim... It takes a lot of conviction and strength of character for forgive, but it isn't nearly as easy to forget."

Jim had nothing to say to that.

Joel Taggart had been praying for Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg ever since the shocking revelation that Blair wasn't Blair. Something had told him upon the real Blair's return that as much as he wanted things to go back to normal, the real problems were only beginning. It seemed strange that the easy part had been getting Blair back, but that was the reality of it. Now that he was here, back in his own life, in his own home and his own job, Blair Sandburg was even more lost than before.

Joel had gotten to know the young grad student when he had first joined Major Crimes as an observer, and now that he had been working with Jim for over three years, his moods were as evident to Joel as the clouds in the sky. And right now, though for the most part he was subtle and quiet, his anger was a roiling black cloud over the young man's head.

Joel was not normally the kind of man to pray to God for answers to his problems, as he preferred to use the emotional support and security he got from his Creator to give him the strength to figure out the answers to his own problems. But last night, he had asked a specific question. "Should I get involved?" The Lord's answer had been clear: YES.

So when Joel watched Blair storm out of the bullpen, leaving a hurt and lost Jim Ellison behind, he stood and hurried after the grad student, steeling himself for what could easily be a very emotional confrontation.

Blair was younger than he, and more fit, so it took Joel a while to catch up with him, but when Blair noticed that he was being followed, he made a concerted effort to slow down. When Joel reached his side, both were breathing hard in exertion, though Blair's difficulty was more emotional than physical in nature.

"I'm sorry," Blair told him, somewhat tersely, after a short silence. "I didn't know you were back there or I would have waited for you."

Joel shrugged, trying to seem unconcerned. "No problem," he assured. "Can we talk?"

"I guess." Blair glanced about him, then turned a sheepish half-smile on Joel. "I wasn't really looking where I was going... Just trying to cool off, you know?" Joel smiled back and was not surprised at the relief that flickered in Blair's eyes. "We're near the park, you want to go sit?"

"Sure. You left your lunch in the bullpen, so we can pick up a couple of sandwiches on the way."

They walked the rest of the way to the park in silence, stopping at a small deli nearby for their lunch. The park was crowded, but not overwhelmingly so, and they found a relatively isolated bench fairly quickly. They sat and ate, still not speaking, and Joel used the silence to gather his thoughts. He didn't want to lecture Blair; chances were that the young man truly didn't understand what was going on. Maybe a long talk with a friend would help the young man sort things out in his own mind.

"So, you here to read me the riot act?" Blair's resigned voice broke into his thoughts, and Joel placed a reassuring hand on the tensed shoulder closest to him.

"No, Blair. I just thought you might want to talk about things."

"I was pretty unfair to him just now, I know." Blair kept his gaze focussed far out across the grass. "I didn't think I'd planned that, but I must have, if I bought the sandwiches..." He trailed off, then seemed to shake himself, turning to face Joel. "You heard, right?"

Joel smiled ruefully. "I think _everybody_ heard, Blair."

Blair cringed. "Yeah. Man, they must think I'm such a jerk."

"I doubt that." Joel sat back, wrapping the rest of his sandwich and placing it on the ground at their feet. "You've gone through a tough time, everybody understands that."

"Jim doesn't. God, did you see his _face? _It was like...part of me sees him and wonders what the _hell_ I'm doing, but there's this other part of me that...that almost _wants_ him to feel bad. It just doesn't make sense... I thought I was over all this, I forgave him..."

"What _was_ going on today, with the sandwich?"

Blair sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I got tired of him doing everything I said. It's stupid, I know, but...lately, he's not himself anymore, it's like he's got no backbone. I figured he'd get over it, you know, and get back to his usual cranky, demanding self, but he hasn't. I think he'd kiss my feet if I told him to."

"So you got angry with him for not standing up for himself?"

"Yeah...kind of. That was... That doesn't seem like all of it, though, but I don't know..."

"Do you think..." Joel waited until the idea jelled in his head before continuing. "Do you think maybe you're subconsciously punishing him? For hurting you?"

Blair started to deny that, but cut himself off in mid-word, his confusion evident on his face. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Think about it, Blair. What might you be punishing him for?"

The young man closed his eyes, obviously thinking carefully about Joel's question. When he spoke, his voice was low, the words halting. "Maybe I'm still angry with him for throwing me out. It really hurt me when he did that... We didn't talk things through, he didn't give me a chance to explain, he just... It was _his_ space, you know, and he just decided I didn't belong in it. I thought I had a home there..." Blair's voice began to rise steadily. "I never really had a home, growing up, and I got used to it...to having that sanctuary...and he pulled that out from under me, just because he _felt_ like it, and it _hurt!"_ His voice cracked on the last word, and tears began to spill down his cheeks.

Joel put both arms around the shaking shoulders and pulled the grad student close, unsurprised when Blair's arms encircled his waist and the wet face was buried in his chest. "It's all right," he crooned, barely resisting the urge to stroke those long curls. "Just let it out, I'm here."

It only took a few moments to run out of steam, and then a very embarrassed Blair pulled away, wiping at his reddened eyes. "Sorry," he sniffled, reaching down and picking up one of the napkins from their lunch, which he used to blow his nose. "I didn't mean to do that... I got you all wet."

"It'll clean," Joel smiled, pulling Blair back into a one-armed hug when he was done. "I think you just needed to get that out. You want to hear my opinion, Blair?"

Blair nodded as he subconsciously snuggled closer to Joel's side.

"I think you were so bound and determined to end this thing that you held back what you were really feeling. You said you thought you'd forgiven Jim... Did you _tell_ him he was forgiven?"

"Yeah. The first night I got back."

"So you were probably working to prove that. You didn't let yourself really react. Does that sound about right?"

"Maybe." Blair thought about that for a few short moments. "I didn't really have any emotions when I was...well, dead. And then when I came back, there they all were again. Maybe it just...built up."

"Makes sense. I think you ought to have another talk with Jim."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Blair pulled away again, just enough to look Joel in the eyes. "Thanks, Joel."

Joel smiled, sending a silent prayer of thanks to God. "You're welcome."

**Epilogue**

It had been four weeks--just under one month--since Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg had left on the vacation they hoped would heal the rift that had opened between them after Blair's death. It was with an air of anticipation and worry that the members of Major Crimes waited for their friends' return. They didn't know if things had worked out, since they hadn't been in touch all of that time. Not even Simon knew where the two had gone, as Blair had insisted that for the healing to begin, they had to be alone with their demons. Blair had actually used that phrasing when he requested the time off, and Simon had been forced to choke back an extremely inappropriate laugh at the irony. Blair hadn't noticed, but Jim had, and he'd shared a secret, if weary, smile with his captain before following Blair out of the office and out of Cascade.

Now, the morning of The Return, it seemed that everyone in Major Crimes had arrived early (despite the fact that it was a cold and rainy Monday), wanting to be there to welcome the two men. At 8:58 a.m. the doors opened and Blair Sandburg, grinning and tanned, bounced through the doors. "Hi, honey, I'm home!"

Jim Ellison, also tanned to the color of roasted walnuts, came in right after him, rolling his eyes. "Always gotta make an entrance, huh, Chief?" He smiled at the assembled detectives, flinging an arm around Blair's shoulders. "So, I guess the place didn't blow up without us?"

"Oh, come on, Ellison," Henri Brown teased, slapping the two on their backs as they made their way to their desks. "We all know that if anybody's gonna blow the place up, it's you two!"

"No way, H," Blair disagreed, speaking over Joel Taggart's shoulder as the man indulged himself with a bear hug. "Jim only blows up trucks, and that warehouse was _so_ not my fault, man!"

"I don't blow up trucks, Sandburg," Jim growled good-naturedly.

"Maybe not yet, but I wouldn't put it past you," came the smug retort. "Don't make me bring up your sordid past."

Simon Banks felt a smile lighting up his face. _This_ was the old Jim and Blair, thank God. The teasing, the juvenile jokes, the pranks, the easy camaraderie... "It looks as though a month away has done you good, gentlemen," he congratulated. "I assume we can all expect things to get back to normal around here?"

"Sure, Simon," Blair chirped, grinning as Simon growled at him. "I mean, Captain Banks."

"Where did you fellas go, anyway?" asked Megan Connor, eyeing them appreciatively. "You've obviously spent a lot of time in the sun."

"Well, actually, I was just about to make an announcement about that..." Blair held up his hands for quiet and waited until everyone had settled down before speaking. "Jim and I have spent the past month in Hawaii, where..." He gave a dramatic pause. "We got married!"

A startled hush blanketed the room. "What?" Megan squeaked, when she finally got her voice working again.

"Wanna see our matching tattoos?" Blair continued, as Jim barely held back a laugh.

"Sandburg..." Simon stopped when he realized he had no idea what to say. He turned to Jim. "Jim, tell me he's kidding."

Jim shook his head slowly, a grin ruining his attempt at trying to look serious. "Nope." Simon's mouth fell open. "I'll let _him_ tell you."

"Just kidding!" Blair lunged away, his peals of laughter echoing behind him as Rafe, Brown, Connor and, surprisingly enough, Joel Taggart, chased him out of the doors and down the hallway.

Captain Banks shook his head in exasperation and retreated to his office, closing the door behind him. Things were most definitely back to normal.

**End**


End file.
